When Doves Scry
by darcyfarrow
Summary: Gold hasn't come back from Neverland yet, so Mr. Dove decides to check up on him with a little magic. Sending out a challenge: we need some Dove Love! How about it, Rumple writers? Give us a Dove story!


'Twas minutes to midnight on Hallows Eve when Josiah Dove and his missus let themselves in the back way to Gold's pawnshop, using the skeleton key that Mr. G. had provided his trusted and tall employee. Actually, it wasn't the key itself that was skeleton, but rather the chain Dove kept the key on, for it was a prop in his act, an unsubtle reminder of what could happen to those who would cross Mr. G. (not that Dove ever called him that to his face: Gold thought nicknames a desecration of the power of names).

In truth, Dove was more bark than bite–a silent bark, as he would stand like a regal Doberman behind the snarling Scottish terrier that was Gold. Dove had never actually had to be sicced on anyone (not that he hadn't offered plenty of times when it came to that sniveling flower peddler, and if he and his boss weren't gentlemen, he'd have loved to have taken a bite out of Her Majesty the Mayor).

Dove held the pawnshop door open for his bride–for, indeed, to the surprise of all, theirs had been the first wedding in Storybrooke, taking place mere months after the curse broke. Who would have suspected the gregarious fairy-nun Nina of harboring a crush on the funereal Mutt to Gold's Jeff?

"Are you sure he won't mind?" Missus D. whispered before tiptoeing in.

Following her, Dove closed the door behind him and boldly flipped on the light. "Of course not. He asked me to check on the shop while he's in Neverland. Tonight especially."

"Oooh, is he afraid the evil spirits here will awaken on All Hallows Eve?" Nina clutched her hands to her breast as she stared at the odd assortment of–well, to her it was junk from two worlds, but she strongly suspected that some of it might be enchanted. That mechanical Mickey Mouse on the shelf, for instance: his eyes followed her as she moved about the workroom. A sinister being if she ever saw one.

"No," Josiah replied, "pranksters. He thought the dwarfs might TP the place. They've always had it in for him, ever since one of his potions turned Snow White into a bluebird-crushing harpy." He strolled through to the front of the shop, Nina still tiptoeing behind. "Nothing out of order. He'll be pleased."

"If he comes back," Nina amended. Her fingers trailed over the fine film of dust that had collected on the counter. She knew Gold well enough to predict that the second thing he'd do after he returned from Neverland (the first would be collecting rent, of course) would be to give this place a thorough cleaning: Gold took pride in his junk.

"You think he won't?" Dove bit off the words. "Come back, I mean?" He brooked no insult, even from his bride, when it came to his employer, for in the old world, where he'd been no more than a glorified carrier pigeon, Rumplestiltskin had tended his wounds after finding him broken-winged in a storm, and when the dove had healed, the imp had granted his request to be changed into a human. Not that Rumplestiltskin was in the habit of showing compassion, but his housekeeper was, and he would move mountains for her (and had, when she mentioned that Penelope's Peak blocked the view from the castle's east tower.)

"I heard Belle talking to Archie the other day," Nina said, ignoring Josiah's distain for gossip. "She said Rumplestiltskin had told her he wouldn't survive Neverland. A suicide mission, she called it. Poor little thing. After all she'd been through, to lose her love not even an hour after regaining her memories."

"He'll be back," Dove snapped. "Don't doubt it, just because he looks human now. He's still the most powerful wizard of all times and all places, and immortal, to boot."

"They've been gone six days. Don't you wonder, Josiah, what's happened to them?" Nina gave the globe on the counter a spin.

"He'll be back when he's rescued Henry." Dove continued inspecting the shop. "With Snow and David and the savior as his fighting companions, he will conquer Pan."

"But what's to keep Hook and Regina from turning on him again, for the dagger?"

Dove froze in place. After a long silence, he bent to open the glass door of the counter. "Let me rest your mind, little wife." But Nina knew he should've said "my mind." Such a big heart he had, her Josiah.

He set a crystal ball on the counter. She knew what it was for, though fairies didn't go in for that sort of thing: even with the most well-intentioned practitioner with the most innocent of purposes, divining the future was far too unreliable–and dangerous, should the wrong interpretation be made and the subject of the prediction attempt to alter his destiny based on faulty information.

"Oh, Josiah, you shouldn't. You really shouldn't."

"I've seen him do it dozens of times." Dove didn't add that all of those occasions had been in the Enchanted Forest, not here, where magic was dodgy. He encircled the crystal with his cupped hands, near but not touching the flawless surface.

"Josiah, no," she warned again, but he closed his eyes, and she couldn't resist peering past his elbow into the clear glass.

Nothing happened.

"Picture him in your mind, as you saw him last," Nina said helpfully. When, eyes still closed, he cocked an eyebrow at her, she added defensively, "Well, if you insist on doing it, do it right."

He returned his attention to the ball and in a moment a violet cloud formed inside. "Look." She nudged him and he watched the cloud dissipate.

"Oh," they said together.

The scene that appeared before them was a grand suite with plush carpet and gold-edged furniture and a chandelier sparkling overhead. Baskets of fruit and flowers were arranged throughout the room, and a silver ice bucket cradling a bottle of champagne waited on the coffee table. From the floor-to-ceiling window, bright lights flickered in the night, showing off their skyscrapers to best advantage.

The door to the suite swung open and a man in a tux entered, a woman in white scooped up in his arms. As the door closed silently behind them, the man set the woman down but didn't release her. Her arms slid around his neck and he bent his head toward hers, their lips connecting. Her fingers sank into his hair as his strolled down her back, plucking at the laces of her dress.

"Josiah, I don't think we should be–"

"Shh, Nina, not until I'm sure. . . ."

The woman in white kicked off her heels and raised herself on her toes, all without breaking the kiss. The man gave a tug at a ribbon and her hair cascaded down and she freed one of her hands to pry at the button of his tux jacket.

"Josiah!" Nina sounded indignant now. "It's their wedding night. Leave them alone."

"Not until I'm sure it's him."

"Well, that's clearly Belle, so who else would it be with her?"

"Shhh."

Suddenly the man in Belle's embrace drew away from her and turned around. It was Mr. G. all right, and he glared directly at Dove. His mid-Atlantic accent boomed through the crystal: "Mr. Dove, I trust your concerns have been laid to rest, so kindly leave me and Belle alone and go back to work!"

Josiah jerked his hands away from the ball and the image within vanished.

"Well." Dove cleared his throat. "As I was saying. Nothing to worry about. He's coming back."

"And has a very bright future ahead." Nina linked her arm in her husband's. "Can we go home now, dear?"

Still red-faced, Dove patted her hand. "As you wish, dear."


End file.
